The real life of an American police officer: Winning over others with virtue

Chapter 272 Code 7
"If I had known this would happen, I shouldn't have rented it to him!"

The middle-aged man leading the way kept complaining, while Eric calmly took a high-powered flashlight from his duty belt, turned it on, and shone it on the floors above.

The building looked quite old, and a flashlight shone from the narrow external staircase onto a tightly closed door on the second floor.

Who is the tenant? When was the last time you saw him?

"He's a man who lives alone, named Vince Patel, and he's probably around forty years old. He's not very talkative and always keeps to himself. I haven't seen him for about four or five days."

The middle-aged man tried hard to recall, his brows furrowed. "The rent was paid in advance, so I didn't pay much attention to it, but I'm a little worried about the smell."

As he spoke, he seemed a little hesitant. As a normal person, the fact that the phone wasn't being answered and there was this strange smell made him suspicious.

Otherwise, he would have already used the key to open the door and check the situation himself, instead of calling the police.

Eric noticed the landlord's hesitation: "Do you have a spare key?"

"Yes!" The landlord hurriedly pulled a bunch of keys from his pocket, picked out one, and said, "Officer, can you go up and check it yourself? I really have a bit of a problem."

He looked troubled, clearly imagining what lay behind the door.

Eric glanced at him speechlessly and took the keys.

"Wait here."

After saying that, Eric, holding a flashlight, stepped onto the external staircase.

The external staircase is made of iron.

Stepping on it produces a creepy sound, especially during these quiet times.

The landlord even subconsciously took a few steps back, held his breath, and nervously watched Eric walk up step by step.

The closer Eric got to the door on the second floor, the more suffocating the putrid stench became. He instinctively held his breath and glanced down.

No light shone through the gap below the door.

Eric stood sideways by the door, avoiding facing it directly, and knocked hard.

Boom boom boom!
“LAPD! Mr. Patel, is anyone inside?”

The place was deathly silent, with only that smell as a response.

Eric held his breath and inserted the key into the lock.

Click.

The door opened a crack, and Eric reached out and pushed it open.

The door opened.

A stronger, more pungent stench, enough to make anyone's stomach churn, hit them, creating a direct physical impact.

Even though Eric was prepared, he couldn't help but cover his mouth and nose with his arm.

"Is it really the smell of a corpse?"

Eric swung the beam of his flashlight into the house.

The apartment was a mess, with takeout containers and empty bottles scattered everywhere.

On the carpet in the center of the living room, a male corpse lay conspicuously.

The body had clearly been dead for several days; it was highly decomposed and its face was unrecognizable. The swollen skin had a horribly bluish-black color, and flies and other insects were scattered around it.

The visual and olfactory impacts combined to create a hellish scene.

Eric suppressed his slight physical discomfort and continued to control the beam of light, carefully observing the room.

There were no obvious signs of a struggle, no bloodstains, and no indication of a struggle at the scene. An empty medicine bottle lay on the floor with a few pills scattered nearby. On the coffee table in front of the sofa sat a half-empty bottle of cheap bourbon whiskey and a dirty glass.
All this information automatically formed a corresponding result in Eric's mind.

This person living alone may have died unexpectedly due to a sudden illness or an overdose of mixed medications and alcohol, and was not discovered until the stench from the decomposition of the body was detected.

Eric quickly stepped back, closed the door, and pressed the intercom button.

"10-L-11, calling dispatch center, Code 4! Code 419 (Dead human body), a highly decomposed body has been found in apartment 32B of Melrose. Requesting the medical examiner's office to send personnel to the scene. Over."

Dispatch Center: "Received, 10-L-11, Code 4 confirmed, forensic office has been notified."

Upon hearing the reply, Eric decided not to linger there any longer.

His initial on-site treatment is complete; now it's just a matter of waiting for the forensic office to take over.

Once the forensic office confirms the nature of the body, discovers homicide, or matches characteristics of other departments, it will call the corresponding department, such as the forensic department responsible for collecting physical evidence, to take over the subsequent processing.

"That's the procedure." Eric sighed, walked down the stairs, and said to the tense-looking middle-aged man:
"It's regrettable that the person inside has already passed away. There are no signs of crime at present; it appears to be an accident."

"Oh God!" The middle-aged man had guessed it, but his face still showed a complicated expression, a mixture of disgust and fear. He made the sign of the cross, and there was also a trace of sympathy and sigh.

“I knew it. He was always drunk by himself. It’s so unfortunate.”

"The forensic doctor will be here soon. If there are no problems, you may need a professional cleaning company to clean the room afterwards."

"Understood, understood! Thank you, officer."

-

Not a moment later.

The West Canyon Police Department's medical examiner has arrived.

Although they knew each other, they were clearly not as close as Hope.

Eric leaned against the police car, watching the personnel come and go, and couldn't help but shake his head.

He raised his wrist and glanced at the time.

After all this, it's already midnight.

The fact that the most wanted criminal hasn't been found yet shows how well he's been hiding.

This made him suspect that Daves's intelligence was now outdated.

That guy is unlikely to be hiding in a hotel or abandoned warehouse; he's probably hiding in someone he knows.

Otherwise, he wouldn't have needed to come to Los Angeles; he could have just found a secluded place to hide and no one would have been able to find him.

"Hey, Eric."

The shout interrupted Eric's thoughts, and he looked in the direction of the sound.

At that moment, Ricky, the forensic investigator in charge of the West Canyon Police Department, was taking off his protective suit.

"How's it going, Ricky?" Eric asked.

“It’s not a murder case,” Ricky said, shaking his head.

"The body can be moved now!"

“OK!” Eric nodded and continued pressing the intercom: “10-L-11, call dispatch center, request the medical examiner’s office to send a hearse to remove the body, Over.”

Dispatch Center: "Received!"

-

"Let's go, Eric!"

"it is good!"

Eric saw Ricky off and waited for the hearse to complete the handover before leaving the scene.

Instead of going on patrol, he went straight to Emilio's Night Market, the regular spot where patrol officers would have their late-night snacks.

Upon arrival at the destination, the area outside the night market was filled with patrol cars.

The streets and inside were filled with patrol officers from various police precincts.

They either smoke or drink and chat idly.

Driving the police car to its parking spot, Eric spotted Will and his group's police car with his sharp eyes.

"10-L-11, Code 7 (Meal break)."

Dispatch Center: "Received!"

Eric got out of the car, glanced around, and walked inside.

The patrol officers in the vicinity also spotted Eric.

They would either suddenly nudge their companion with their elbow, gesturing towards Eric, then whisper among themselves, their eyes briefly lingering on him.

Or perhaps a patrol officer recognized Eric and simply raised his beer, offering a silent smile as a greeting.

Alternatively, a patrol officer who is more familiar with the officer could simply shout a greeting.

"Eric!"

(End of this chapter)